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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359174">Best Christmas Ever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore'>whiskygalore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Jensen, M/M, Panties, Schmoop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:49:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359174</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen sighs. He loves Jared, he really does, (even though he shouldn’t) but now that school and exams are finally over for the term he was looking forward to a few hours of precious alone time. He had plans goddamnit. Private alone time plans.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>349</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Best Christmas Ever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the SMPC.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p><br/>Jensen’s in his bedroom when the front door slams shut and he hears the familiar sound of Jared’s boots thump thumping against the hall wall as he kicks them off. He imagines Jared’s warm quilted jacket is being thrown over a kitchen chair and then, yes, predictably... Jared’s moose-like bellow is ringing through the house. “Jensen, you in?”</p><p>Jensen sighs. He loves Jared, he really does, (even though he shouldn’t) but now that school and exams are finally over for the term he was looking forward to a few hours of precious alone time. He had plans goddamnit. Private alone time plans. </p><p>“Jensen,” Jared yells again, his voice louder this time as he stomps up the stairs towards Jensen’s room. “I know you’re here. Your jacket’s hanging up and it’s far too freaking cold out there for you to have gone far without it.”</p><p>Muttering a curse under his breath, Jensen jumps up off his bed, smoothes down his tee-shirt and grabs his jeans. </p><p>“Jensen,” Jared bangs on his bedroom door this time. “What are you doing in there? It’s the middle of the afternoon, tell me you’re not jerking off, you freak.”</p><p>Thankfully, Jensen manages to get his jeans on and is just fastening the zip when Jared bursts through his door, not even waiting for Jensen to let him in.</p><p>“Dude,” he says. “Were you wanking?”</p><p>“<em>Wanking</em>?” Jensen bites back, snatching a hoodie up off the floor and shrugging it on before he turns around to face his best friend. “Dude, you’re from San Antonio not London.”</p><p>“Hey, I’ve lived in the UK for three years, I can call it wanking, you wanker.”</p><p>“You probably shouldn’t though,” Jensen says, straightening his glasses and combing his fingers through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to flatten it. “Because it makes you sound like a douche. Or an x-rated Dick Van Dyke.”</p><p>“I’m assimilating, Jackles, nothing wrong with that. So… were you? Wanking? Jacking off? Squeezing one out? Spanking the monkey? Stroking the salami?”</p><p>Jensen groans and slaps the back of his hand against Jared’s shoulder. It probably hurts him more than Jared. The asshole is an odd combination of sharp bones and thick muscles. “Shut the fuck up, weirdo. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you and Gen had plans after your last classes? One last pub lunch before everything shuts down again?”</p><p>Jared rolls his eyes. “Oh, she has plans alright. She’s driving home. Spending the Christmas break with all her family. And I mean all of them. Pretty sure ever last cousin is descending on the old Cortese mansion.”</p><p>Jensen doesn’t think Gen actually lives in a mansion but he wouldn’t be shocked. There are some seriously wealthy kids go to this school. Seriously royally wealthy. As far as he knows Genevieve’s parents live in the south of England. At least an eight hour drive from St. Andrews. Not the longest journey in the world, certainly not for a boy from Texas, but right now, with the government, and more importantly, the hospitals, all but begging people to stay at home, it’s a journey that’s hardly essential. Still, it’s not really any of Jensen’s business. “That’s… uh… you aren’t going with her?”</p><p>Jared scrunches his nose up and squints at Jensen like he’s an idiot. “Of course not. One,” he holds up a finger, “we’re in the middle of a pandemic and aren’t supposed to be driving anywhere, definitely not across the border into England. Especially not all the way down into fucking Kent. Two,” he holds up another finger, “if I have to be stuck in another lockdown with anyone it definitely isn’t going to be Gen and her family. And three,” he waggles three thick fingers in Jensen’s face. “Gen and I split up.”</p><p>“I’m… sorry?” Jensen isn’t sorry at all. He’s secretly delighted. But he’ll pretend for Jared’s sake if he has to. Jared, however, doesn’t look heartbroken. </p><p>“Don’t be,” Jared shrugs. “It was only a matter of time. It became pretty clear that we don’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things. Honestly, I think we only lasted this long because we spent the last lockdown over four hundred miles apart.”</p><p>“Maybe you’ll make up after Christmas?” Jensen says. It’s not the first time they’ve broken up after all. Gen has a flair for the dramatics and breaking up with Jared every couple of months has been a bit of a trend over the two years they’ve been together.</p><p>“Not this time. She didn’t appreciate me calling her selfish… or dumb... or entitled.”</p><p>“Jesus, Jared,” Jensen winces.</p><p>“What? Not like it’s not all true. She did slap me which I’ll admit I deserved. Let’s be honest though, I was never going to have a future with anyone who falls asleep during Lord of the Rings. Or anyone who thinks the remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is better than the original. Gene wilder, man, fucking genius.”</p><p>Jensen shakes his head as he follows a rambling Jared down the stairs and into the kitchen. He stops short when he sees the mountain of grocery bags piled up on the kitchen table. “What’s all this?”</p><p>“Christmas, Jensen,” Jared says, pulling a Santa hat out of a bag with a flourish and holding it aloft like a trophy. </p><p>Jensen peers into another bag and comes face to face with an ugly-ass turkey, a chocolate orange, and a box of tacky Christmas crackers. “You do realise that it’s just the two of us here, right? We’re not having guests. We’re <em>not</em> having guests,right?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Jared says, plopping the Santa hat on Jensen’s head and yanking it down over his ears. “I’m not insane. Nope, just you and me, Jenny, having the best Christmas ever.”</p><p>Jensen scoffs. “The best Christmas ever? Stuck in Scotland? Thousands of miles away from our families? Not allowed to see our friends. Not even allowed to go and get drunk in a bar. About to go into another lockdown even though it feels like we never really came out of the first one?”</p><p>“It could be worse,” Jared says, slapping away Jensen’s hands when he attempts to yank the Santa hat off his head. “We could be stuck in a lockdown WITH our families.”</p><p>And well, yeah, that’s true. Jensen would not want to be shut in a house with his parents right now. He has a feeling they would approve far less of his plans to spend the next few weeks drinking and playing video games, and given the chance, jacking off. But still, he was hoping to just ignore the fact that it’s Christmas in two days time, not celebrate it. </p><p>Jared doesn’t seem to be on the same page. </p><p>Jensen stares with growing horror as he empties a bag of shiny red tinsel and glittery baubles over the table. “I couldn’t find a Christmas tree anywhere, they were all sold out, but I figured we could decorate the yukka plant.”</p><p>Jensen stops a gold plastic ball from rolling off the edge of the table. “You want to decorate a yukka plant? We <em>have</em> a yukka plant? What the fuck is a yukka plant?” </p><p>Jared rakes through another bag and emerges with a triumphant grin and a box of tree lights. “That giant green thing in the corner of the living room, Jensen? Pretty sure you’ve hung your jacket on it more than once, Mr. Magoo.”</p><p>Jensen slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose and scowls. “You’re… Mr. Magoo.”</p><p>Jared just raises an eyebrow. Jensen scowls harder. So. He’s not great at comebacks. Whatever. </p><p>“I didn’t think you cared about Christmas,” Jensen says. “In fact, I heard you tell Gen you didn’t care about Christmas.”</p><p>“Maybe it was more Gen I didn’t care about than Christmas,” Jared retorts, before stopping and biting his lip. “Shit, that’s a horrible thing to say.” He shrugs off any guilt he feels just as quickly as it came over him. “True though. Look, I just think we should at least try and make this Christmas special. Just because nothing’s normal this year doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves.”</p><p>“And we need tinsel and turkey and chocolates oranges to enjoy ourselves?”</p><p>“It’s the British way.”</p><p>“We’re not British,” Jensen points out. </p><p>Jared rolls his eyes. “I bought whisky too,” he says, producing a bottle from yet another Tesco bag. “Will you at least pretend to be <em>Scottish</em>?”</p><p>Jensen tilts his head to the side and makes a show of thinking about it for a second before reaching over and whipping the bottle out of Jared’s hand. “I can work with that.”</p><p>Jared snatches the bottle straight back. “After we’ve decorated the Christmas tree.”</p><p>Jensen tries to grab the bottle back, but Jared lifts his arm up holding the whisky out of Jensen’s reach. It’s not fair that Jared is so much taller than Jensen. And not just because it’s part of the reason that Jensen finds him insanely hot. “Trust me, Jay, you’ll have far more luck convincing me that a houseplant is a Christmas tree and that it needs tinsel draped over it if I drink the whisky first.” </p><p>“Hmm,” Jared says. “Point. Maybe just one glass then. After you help me find room in the refrigerator for all the food.”</p><p>With alcohol as an incentive, Jensen somehow manages to squeeze everything but a Baileys cheesecake into the fridge. Jared pours them two generous glasses of whisky, Jensen grabs two forks and the cheesecake and they head through to the living room to decorate the yukka plant that apparently lives there.</p><p>Jensen isn’t quite sure how he’s managed to miss the fact he’s been living with a weird looking tree in a purple ceramic pot that’s almost as tall as him, maybe because it was tucked behind a chair in the corner of the room. Maybe because for all the time he’s lived here he’s probably spent more time staring at his housemate than his surroundings. </p><p>First they drag the plant out of its hiding spot and shove it in front of the window. That results in some rearranging of the furniture. Jensen doesn’t complain though. Or help. He just stands back and lets Jared get on with it, avidly watching all the stretching and flexing that Jared proceeds to do until he’s satisfied that everything is in just the right place. He does try not to drool on himself when Jared strips off his sweater and his tee-shirt rucks up, giving Jensen a perfect view of his very lickable abs. Or every time he bends over and his jeans slip down a little.</p><p>“You could lend a hand, you know,” Jared says, straightening up and turning around as he finally shoves a chair into the exact position he wants it. Jensen eats a last forkful of cheesecake, sets down the plate, nudges his glasses up his nose, and says a silent prayer that Jared never noticed Jensen staring at his ass.</p><p>“I didn’t want to interfere with whatever feng shui magic you were working,” he says, once his mouth is empty.</p><p>“Whatever, dickhead. Grab the lights for the tree.”</p><p>“You know it’s really not a tree.”</p><p>“Do you want me to drink the rest of the whisky myself?”</p><p>Jensen holds his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine, it’s a tree.”</p><p>Between them they wrap up the yukka in the twenty metres of LED lights Jared bought. There’s enough wire to wind around the plant at least ten times. And when they switch the lights on, it’s like having a lighthouse beaming manically at them. Jensen doesn’t think his sight will ever fully recover. </p><p>“Cool,” Jared exclaims, clapping his hands together. “You want to do the tinsel or the balls next?”</p><p>Jensen stares at him, blinking against the image of flashing lights still imprinted on his retinas. “You don’t think the tree lights are enough?”</p><p>“Don't be a grinch, Jackles.” Jared says, throwing a bauble towards him. </p><p>If Jensen wasn’t currently half-blind he’d have caught it, probably. As it is the bauble bounces off the middle of his forehead which results in Jared almost doing himself an injury laughing so hard. </p><p>“You’re a dick,” Jensen grumbles, rubbing at his head. </p><p>“But you love me,” Jared says, still cackling. </p><p>Jensen feels his cheeks heat at the truth in Jared’s thrown-away words and quickly bends down to retrieve the now lost tree ornament so Jared can’t see the flush that’s no doubt spreading across his face. </p><p>It takes a few minutes to track down the rogue ball which had ricocheted off Jensen’s head and hit the wall before rolling away. Jensen eventually spots it hiding underneath the television stand. He has to do some weird yoga move, head down, arms out, and ass up in the air, to reach the bauble and by the time he successfully retrieves it and stands up, he’s not the only one with a red face. </p><p>“What?” Jensen says.</p><p>“Uh…” Jared, for maybe the first time ever, seems to be at a loss for words. </p><p>Jensen tries not to freak out. He’s sure there’s a reasonable explanation as to why Jared’s eyes are almost bugging out of his head. </p><p>“You… uh…” Jared stutters, pointing vaguely at Jensen’s jeans.</p><p>“I what?” Jensen asks, looking down at himself. </p><p>“Pink,” Jared finally manages to spit out. Which makes no sense until it suddenly, awfully, makes perfect sense. </p><p>Jensen wants to die. Immediately. </p><p>“Shit,” he says. “Jared, I…”</p><p>“Pink panties,” Jared continues. “You’re… uh… wearing pink panties. When you bent down, your jeans… they… uh… and I saw… pink… lace.”</p><p>“I get it thanks, Jared,” Jensen hisses, his embarrassment flipping to anger at Jared’s horrified expression. Fuck, he’s wearing panties, not a goddamn gimp suit. Not that there’s anything wrong with wearing a gimp suit, not if that’s what you want to do in the privacy of your own goddamn house, if you’re lucky enough to get some fucking privacy which is what Jensen had been hoping for before Jared decided to break up with his bitch of a girlfriend and interrupt the first bit of alone time Jensen’s had in weeks.</p><p>This is not his fault.</p><p>“This isn’t my fault, you asshole. You were supposed to be out with Gen! Do you know how difficult it is for me to get five minutes alone time around here? Do you?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I…” Jared starts to say.</p><p>“And so what if I’m wearing panties?” Jensen snaps, ramming his glasses so hard up the bridge of his nose he almost brains himself. “I like the feel of them, what’s wrong with that?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Jared says quickly. “Absolutely nothing.”</p><p>“Good,” Jensen says, shoving the bauble at Jared as he tries to escape to his room to die from humiliation. Or perhaps by smothering himself with his pillow. Jared catches his wrist. </p><p>“Jensen,” he says. </p><p>“What, Jared?”</p><p>“Can I… can I see them?”</p><p>Jensen goes hot. And then cold, his stomach twisting. He didn’t think Jared could be cruel. “Why, so you can have a good laugh?”</p><p>“No!” Jared’s fingers tighten around Jensen’s wrist, clasping hard enough that Jensen suspects he may be left with a ring of bruises the shape of Jared’s fingertips lingering against his skin. It’s a thought that shouldn’t be hot. Jensen’s dick swells with want just the same. “No, Jensen. I wouldn’t laugh. I’d never laugh at you.”</p><p>Jensen swallows hard, his eyes stuck on the way Jared’s fingers are curled around his wrist. “Then why?” </p><p>“You want to know something, Jen,” Jared says, his voice a full octave lower than normal, and shaking with nerves. “I did tell Gen she was selfish. But that’s not why she slapped me.”</p><p>Jensen is too scared to ask. </p><p>“I told her… I told her I didn’t love her. Because I was in love with you. Because you’re kinder and cleverer and… prettier. So much fucking prettier, Jensen.”</p><p>“Jared,” Jensen exclaims on a shaky exhale.</p><p>“Will you let me see your panties? Please?” Jared’s voice is barely a whisper. </p><p>Jensen finally looks up to meet his gaze. There’s nothing in Jared’s eyes, not a flicker, to make Jensen doubt him. It’s terrifying.</p><p>Jared slowly releases his grip on Jensen’s wrist leaving him free to flee. Or to take a leap of faith and do as Jared’s asking.</p><p>Jensen doesn’t know if he’s brave enough. </p><p>He watches Jared swallow, his throat bobbing. And it occurs to him that Jared’s as scared as he is. It helps ease his nerves… a little. </p><p>He undoes the button on his jeans, before slowly sliding down the zipper. He’s not teasing, not being coy, his hands are simply shaking too hard to move any quicker. He drags his jeans down just low enough that pink lace is visible against his stomach.</p><p>Jared groans, the sound almost ripped out of him. Jensen chances a glance up at his face. Jared’s staring at the strip of hot pink against Jensen’s pale skin, his eyes dark.</p><p>Jared licks his lips. “Can I…”</p><p>Jensen nods, a stiff jerk of his head. His palms are sweating. His heart beating so fast he feels lightheaded. Or maybe that’s because Jared is standing in front of him now, so close that Jensen can smell the spice of his aftershave, feel the heat radiating from his body.</p><p>Jared reaches out, his fingers fumbling at the waistband of Jensen’s jeans. He slides them down Jensen’s hips, not stopping until they're sitting halfway down his thighs. </p><p>“Fuck,” Jared says, looking down at Jensen’s dick straining against the delicate stretch of pink lace. </p><p>Jensen’s glued to the spot. His emotions spiralling. Embarrassment, arousal, fear, hope. Hope is the worst thing. Because it’s what he’s been clinging to for almost as long as he’s known Jared. And if Jared rejects him now, if he laughs, if he turns this moment into a joke, Jensen doesn’t know if he would survive. If he would even want to. </p><p>Jared’s fingers trail up Jensen’s thighs, his thumbs brushing just the edge of pink lace.</p><p>Jensen’s breath catches in his throat. </p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Jared says, with what sounds like awe. “I always thought so. Even when you’ve not showered for four day and are wearing that old baggy hoodie you love. But… fuck… Jensen… I never imagined…” And then Jared is kissing him. It’s awkward. There’s too much teeth and tongue and urgency and desperation, and Jensen thinks his heart is in danger of actually exploding. </p><p>He’s gasping, breathless, and stunned when Jared’s mouth retreats, but then Jared’s dropping to his knees and he’s looking up at Jensen for permission. Jensen can only nod and hope that his legs don’t collapse under him.</p><p>Jared’s hands settle on Jensen’s ass, his fingers spreading across the swell of his cheeks and drawing him towards Jared’s mouth. He doesn’t try to remove Jensen’s panties. He mouths Jensen’s dick through the flimsy material, until the lace is soaking wet and Jensen is trembling, his dick verging on too sensitive, and harder than it’s ever been. </p><p>“So fucking beautiful,” Jared says. He urges Jensen to move and Jensen finds himself kneeling on the floor, belly down on the chair-seat, his face buried in the cushions as Jared turns his attention to Jensen’s ass. He scrapes his teeth over his bare skin, bites softly at the curve of his ass, and then his hands are slapping down on his cheeks and spreading them apart so he can tongue at the lace barely covering Jensen’s hole. </p><p>It’s so fucking filthy. At first Jensen doesn’t know what to do with himself. His face burns with embarrassment, while his dick drips with need, his panties all but ruined.</p><p>“Jesus, Jensen,” Jared groans. “Your ass. I’ve been dreaming about it. Fucking fantasised about bending you over like this. Tasting you. Getting you all wet and sloppy before I fuck you. Can’t believe you’re even prettier than I imagined.”</p><p>Jensen knows he’s whimpering, high pitched little gasps falling from his lips just from feeling the heat of Jared’s mouth against his most private place. Tremors ripple under his skin, his entire body shaking as though he’s about to fly apart. He’d swear he tries not to shove his ass back into Jared’s face like he’s desperate for it. Desperate for him. But Jared’s mouth feels so good as he devours him. And it’s been so long since anyone touched him like this. Fuck, no one has ever touched him like this. Not with this hunger. </p><p>The noises Jared makes, like he can’t get enough of Jensen, go straight to Jensen’s dick. His fingers dig hard into the flesh of Jensen’s ass, and with a frustrated groan, he eventually grows tired of the barrier between his mouth and Jensen’s hole.</p><p>Jensen should be pissed, but the lace shredding as Jared rips the panties off him is possibly the hottest sound he’s heard in his life. And then Jared’s tongue buried in his ass is the only thing he’s conscious of. </p><p>He doesn’t mean to come. He doesn’t even want to come. Fuck, he didn’t think he could come without a touch to his dick. But with Jared’s fingers holding his ass cheeks apart, holding him in place so he can fuck him with his tongue, Jensen comes, fast and hard and so unexpected that he almost goes blind.</p><p>“Fuck,” Jared grunts. “Did you just come?”</p><p>Jensen’s too dazed to answer but humiliation is already crawling across his skin. He gasps when Jared lays a hard smack against his ass, and whimpers when Jared grabs his arm and spins him around. </p><p>On his knees, dick half-hard and still dripping between his spit-soaked thighs, Jensen blinks up at a blurry Jared. Jared has his dick out of his jeans, in his hand. And fuck, but he’s big. Even thicker than Jensen imagined. All those times he shoved his fingers in his mouth and pretended it was Jared’s dick he was sucking, he had seriously underestimated how big his friend’s cock was. </p><p>He wants to try it now for real. Wants to try and wrap his lips around Jared’s dick, see just how far he can take him into his throat. Wants to find out if he enjoys choking on Jared’s dick just as much as he dreamt he would.</p><p>He tilts his head back, licks his lips, opens his mouth in offer. Jared ignores him. Too busy stripping his own dick, barely half a dozen pulls and he’s coming too. Jensen instinctually closes his eyes, thank god, as spunk hits his face, sticks to eyelashes, drips down his nose. He licks thick drops from his lips, and thinks he could easily get used to the taste. Could learn to love it actually.</p><p>“Jesus,” Jared says, voice as shaky as Jensen’s thighs. “Sorry, I… sorry.”</p><p>And then, while Jensen is still trying to catch his breath, Jared is wiping his face clean, or trying to at least. It feels more like he’s just smearing his come into Jensen’s skin. Jensen takes over after a minute, cleaning away the spunk that’s gluing his eyelashes together. And then Jared is carefully placing his glasses back on his face, hooking the metal frame gently over his ears. He presumably found them wedged into the chair cushion somewhere.</p><p>“So… uh,” Jared says. Jensen looks up at him. His jeans hanging open and chest naked. His tee-shirt now come-stained and clenched in Jensen’s hand. “Was that… okay?”</p><p>Jensen huffs a breath and rolls his eyes. “Seriously? I came with just your tongue shoved up my ass.”</p><p>Jared smirks. “That was hot.”</p><p>He reaches down and grabs Jensen’s arm, helping him to his feet. Jensen’s grateful for the help, his legs still feel as steady as jello. </p><p>“I wanted to blow you,” he grumbles, mainly just to see Jared’s reaction. Jared just grins more brightly. “Awesome, so, round two in my bedroom?”</p><p>“Don’t you want to finish decorating the tree?” Jensen asks, eyes wide and as innocent as anyone with his jeans tangled around his ankles and come smeared across his cheekbones can manage. “We’ve still got the balls to hang.”</p><p>Jared shoots Jensen a lopsided smirk that makes Jensen’s insides turn to mush, tugs the damn Santa hat, that Jensen didn’t realise was still sitting on his head, back down over his ears and kisses the tip of his nose. “Nah,” he says. “I’d much rather play with your balls.”</p><p>Jensen narrows his eyes, unimpressed.</p><p>Jared laughs. “Grab the tinsel though,” he says, taking hold of Jensen’s hand. “I'm sure I can find something to wrap it around.”</p><p>He does.</p><p>And, locked-down in Scotland, thousands of miles away from his family, stuck in a tiny house with his best friend, actually does turn out to be Jensen’s best Christmas ever. </p><p><br/><br/>Finis<br/>Thanks for reading!<br/><br/><br/></p>
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